


victorious

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [143]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, post pacrim tv interview leads to a sudden Realisation on hermann's part lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: The interviewer says something—a joke, Hermann thinks, though he’s not particularly paying attention—, and Newton laughs, and Hermann’s looking at him, and then Hermann’slookingathim,anew.He is beautiful and ridiculous andalive,seated on the sofa beside Hermann on an Earth that didn’t end; and Hermann never planned for this; never planned forthis;doesn’t know what todowith himself.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [143]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	victorious

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Is this something that you would be open to writing? "He was beautiful and ridiculous and alive, seated on the sofa beside Hermann on an Earth that didn’t end.""

They’re sitting on a set; some big-name news channel or other that Hermann can’t remember the name of; it’s not like he’s _watched_ the news in the last five years—been a bit _busy_ helping to save the world for _that._

The lights are shining, hot, above them; Newton, by his side, shifts; presses a comforting palm to his leg.

“We’re live in two minutes, gentleman,” says the interviewer, not meeting either of their gazes; she’s checking something on a clipboard—interview questions, probably. She hasn’t given her name—or maybe she has, and Hermann just can’t remember it. Either one is just as likely as the other.

“You finally get to be the rockstar you always wanted,” Hermann murmurs to Newton, quietly.

Newton laughs. “Not exactly how I pictured it,” he returns, “but hey, saving the world isn’t too bad, in my book.”

Hermann opens his mouth to add something—an admonishment, maybe, but before he can, Newton says, “Ah, wait, your collar’s crooked—” and leans forward to fix it; clever fingers deftly readjusting it and smoothing it down. “There,” he says.

After a moment of barely breathing, Hermann croaks, “Thank you.”

That’s all the time they have, because then the interviewer is setting her clipboard aside and the cameras are rolling and she’s asking Newton something about his work in the War and Hermann’s tasting blood and fear when she says _kaiju._

“Yeah, well,” Newton shrugs, “I mean, it wasn’t _easy,_ I’ll admit—our funding was being cut all the time, but we made do.”

“You _are_ a genius, after all,” Hermann points out, instinctively, and then remembers they’re being filmed and flushes. Newton turns his head to give Hermann a surprised, but pleased look.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” says the interviewer, “how was _your_ experience working for the PPDC?”

 _Terrible,_ Hermann very nearly says, and then remembers that this interviewing business is to boost the public’s opinion of the PPDC, and instead says, “Newton is a _horrible_ lab partner. I don’t know _how_ many times I had to file complaints about him.”

“Three-hundred-and-twenty-two,” Newton says, matter-of-factly, to her. Hermann glances at him, wide-eyed. “What? I got emails from the HR department every time you submitted one!”

“I can’t believe you can remember _that_ but not that kaiju blood reacts adversely with caffeine,” Hermann mutters.

The rest of the interview goes fine; they give witty one-liners—Newton—and responses that are more or less scripted—Hermann. By the time it’s over, he feels stifled in the hot air of the room; the clothes he’s been poked and prodded into are stiff, and his face feels caked with the makeup they put on him pre-filming.

The interviewer says something—a joke, Hermann thinks, though he’s not particularly paying attention—, and Newton laughs, and Hermann’s looking at him, and then Hermann’s _looking_ at _him,_ anew.

He is beautiful and ridiculous and _alive,_ seated on the sofa beside Hermann on an Earth that didn’t end; and Hermann never planned for this; never planned for _this;_ doesn’t know what to _do_ with himself.

“Herms?” Newton asks, catching his gaze, “do I have something on my face?”

“…n—no,” Hermann croaks, eventually; mouth suddenly dry.

“Hmm,” Newton hums, and then rises. “Well, it’s time for us to go, so I hope you’re not lying—otherwise that entire interview is going to have me with something on my face, and if it does, I am _not_ going to be happy.”

“I wouldn’t do _that,_ ” Hermann protests, rising with him, and they both bid the interviewer and cameramen a good day and go into the back room, and then Hermann ducks into the restrooms to splash water on his face because he’s feeling hot, still.

“Ready to go?” Newton asks, leaning against the wall, filing his nails as he waits for Hermann to be done, and Hermann grunts; towels his face with paper towels and then groans when that smears the makeup.

Newton laughs at him. “Here,” he says, “let me help you get that all off. I’m pretty good at it—used to have to do this shit all the time when I was with the Rabbits.” He takes a new paper-towel and wets it lightly, wiping, gently, at Hermann’s face; repeats the process, tongue sticking out between his teeth with concentration.

Hermann’s breath hitches; he stills, one hand gripping his cane, the other gripping at empty air. Newton’s hands are warm as they brush his skin, and he’s not sure what to _do._

“There,” Newton says, with satisfaction, and steps back, “all good.”

Hermann breathes; checks his reflection in the mirror, relieved to find that Newton’s managed to get it all after all. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“No problem,” Newton replies; and then, after a moment, “really, though, did I have something on my face on set?”

Hermann shakes his head sharply. “No,” he says, “I wasn’t lying.”

“Never said that,” Newton says, easily. “So if there wasn’t anything on my face, what were you looking at?”

The question brings him to a halt; he wasn’t expecting this conversation; or, at least, not yet. They _did_ Drift, after all; it was probably inevitable. Truth is probably the best policy, then. “You,” Hermann says, honestly.

The other stops. “… _what?_ ” he breathes.

“What, do you want me to say it _again?_ ” Hermann snaps, but it’s without heat, and Newton shakes his head.

“No, I just— _surprised,_ ” he says. “Why would you—?”

“Newton,” he says, softly, “why would I look at _you?_ We _Drifted,_ Newton. You’re a genius—put it together.”

Newton purses his lips; stares at him, hard; tears at the brown of the paper towel in his hand, streaking some of the makeup on it onto his fingers. “You…hmm,” he says, after a moment, and then: “Oh.”

Hermann has to laugh at that; just slightly. “ _‘Oh’_?” he asks, amused, “that’s your reaction?”

“Well how would _you_ react to learning your feelings are reciprocated?” Newton snaps, “cut me some slack here, man.”

“Reciprocated,” Hermann repeats. “Good to know.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Newton grumbles, and Hermann laughs again, and acquiesces, palm cupping Newton’s cheek as he presses his lips to the other’s.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
